


His Achilles Heel

by Funkspiel



Series: Kinktober 2017 [3]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Bottom Original Percival Graves, Desperation, M/M, Public Sex, Spells & Enchantments, Touch-Starved, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 22:06:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12262998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Funkspiel/pseuds/Funkspiel
Summary: Every great man has a weakness, and Grindelwald fully intends to exploit Graves'.Day 3: Public





	His Achilles Heel

He was formidable; a worthy adversary to be sure. But Grindelwald knew that before he ever step foot towards an actual duel with Percival Graves. Weeks of following the man from the shadows, dogging his every move, had proved two things: 1.) That Grindelwald had no chance of besting the man in a fight until he was wounded or exhausted and 2.) That Percival Graves  _did_  have a weakness even so.

Like every man who blazed brighter than history, a beacon for the years to come, he had an Achilles Heel. But it was not vanity, nor greed, nor any quality one might expect. In fact, he was almost annoyingly perfect – good through and through. No, Percival Graves had no moral weakness. 

But he was, however, quite a lonely man.

His underlings couldn’t see it. His so called ‘friends’ didn’t notice. He didn’t seek anyone out. He didn’t even have a pet. But if the straining in his trousers after a short night’s rest or the way he bit his knuckles in the shower rooms was anything to go by, the man was a bit  _pent up_  and too much of a goody-goody to do anything about it. God forbid he lose a second of precious time he could have devoted to his country. 

And it would be that very selflessness that would be his downfall.

Grindelwald grinned, teeth bared, ready to strike for the heel as he and Graves traded lazy starting blows in a back alley in New York City. Despite the cover of night, Graves was still holding back lest some nosey Muggle catch their midnight affair. Even so, Grindelwald had low odds of success in a fair fight. It was thrilling, in a way, knowing that he  _shouldn’t_  win. Knowing that he  _would_. Knowing what he  _knew._

A blow caught him by the shoulder and brought him briefly to his knees. But he didn’t snarl, not even when – infuriatingly – he looked up and saw that even now, Graves was not gloating. He gained no pleasure from his power. What a waste of skill on such an obedient dog. If only he could break his leash and muzzle…

Regardless, if the ache in his shoulder was anything to go by, it was time to act.

“You’re strong,” Grindelwald barked, hand trembling around the aching heat of his shoulder. “Attractive. You could have been anything, couldn’t you? Could have been President.”

“Enough, Grindelwald,” Graves said curtly, wand raised – even now not underestimating him. “Come quietly. It’s over.”

“But you’re  _not_  President, are you. And as good as you’d look sitting in that large wing backed chair, I bet you’d look even more lovely bent over it, hmmm?”

Graves stiffened, and in that small moment where he was caught off guard, Grindelwald struck. A quickly murmured spell and a lance of red light, slamming Graves right in the chest. He wheezed and stumbled back, eyes wide, before collecting himself and raising his wand to counterattack, only –

He sucked in a breath, color rising to his cheeks, and stumbled – a suspicious tightness suddenly growing in his crotch.

“What–?”

“There, there, Director,” Grindelwald crooned, sliding forward while the man was distracted. Side stepping a wild lance of electricity that suddenly sprung from Graves’ wand – thick and powerful and out of control, tearing pavement from the road. As quickly as it started, it stopped. Graves breathing heavily as his hand shook, reigning it in. Grindelwald whistled appreciatively.

“Getting harder to contain yourself? How much are you hiding, Graves? How powerful are you?”

Graves shook his head weakly, wand aimed at his enemy again, but his crotched pulsed once more – angry and demanding, lurching visibly – and Graves nearly fell to his knees. Another lance of lightning tore a chunk from a nearby building before Graves got his magic back under control.

Silence fell over the alley, broken only by his desperate wheezing and the sound of brick clattering to the ground. Above them, eyes began to peek curiously through their windows.

Grindelwald smiled, a shark about to feast.

“Expose them to your magic,” he said, “Or expose them to yourself. I’ll be pleased either way. It’s up to you.”

“Stay back,” Graves gasped, even as the tremble in his calf finally gave, bringing him to one knee with a little huff. “I’m warning you.”

“And what will you do? Your next strike may very well bring down a building, Mr. Graves. How do you intend to explain away that? I think you’re very much in dire straights. A pity – you could be so great.”

Grindelwald brought his hand in front of him and made a show of balling it into a fist, and on the ground, Graves shouted. Head tossed back, throat long and hollow as his eyes shot wide and shocked. In his trousers, his length bobbed painfully, a wetness gathering in the fabric there. Grindelwald squeezed his fist, and finally Graves whined. Were he an average man, it wouldn’t have been so overwhelming. But the director was not an average man.

Graves did not touch himself.

“I’m going to take you right here. I’m going to bend you over, your trousers around your ankles, and fuck you until you’re too tired to run away, let alone use your gifts against me. And then I’m going to spirit you away,” Grindelwald said, walking close enough so he might bury his hands in that luscious black hair and force Graves’ attention back on him. Watching him from his knees. “I’m going to steal your life, your face, your home. And I’m going to keep you so fucked out of your mind, you won’t even be able to tell time is passing. How does that sound?”

“You won’t get away with it,” Graves tried to growl, only to break off into a keen as Grindelwald crooked a finger on his free hand, as though stroking. He could even imagine what it would feel like, Graves’ pucker twitching desperately beneath his calluses. Graves jerked, but couldn’t get free. Grindelwald laughed, downright pleased with himself.

“Oh I think I will, dear boy,” he said as he lifted Graves to his knees and magically swept his pants to his ankles, crowding him close to an alley wall and caging him in. “Do you want to know why?”

Graves just glared at him, cheeks pink and nostrils flared – unable to speak against the pressure of Grindelwald’s knee digging into his erected flesh. Cheeks shuddered as he clenched his jaw, furious and desperate. 

“Because I found your heel, hero.” Grindelwald grinned with all of his teeth and crooned, “And like all men of your stature, you’ve got a long way to fall.”

And above them, a dozen eyes continued to peek through their curtains.


End file.
